


Don't think of them as human

by charlottefrey



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: F/M, Gaby and Alexander know that Illya is gay, Illya is (in)officially gay and okay with it, M/M, Napoleon is a stripper, Napoleon is....well Napoleon, Stripper AU, but now you got 2 chapters, but they keep the secret because their relationship is secret too, harrrrr, was supposed to be a one shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-09
Updated: 2015-10-31
Packaged: 2018-04-25 13:40:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4962739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charlottefrey/pseuds/charlottefrey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Illya is send into a strip club to investigate the owners secret drug dealing, he meets the dancer Napoleon. Napoleon, searched by the CIA as an art thief wants nothing more than to get out of his situation and Illya offers to get him out of there in exchange for information. When Illya uncovers that he is working for a secret service, Napoleon draws back...But there is a promise to be made true...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Night 1

**Author's Note:**

> HA!!  
> I love this movie and i love this ship. I would be terribly stupid NOT to write something, so here it is. With the hope you will like the fic, i post this, knowing that i have 0 idea how male stripping works. But i have a dirty mind and a fucked-up imagination, so here it is.
> 
> Title taken from Tina Turner's 'Private Dancer'. If you know the song, you'll notice something else in here that fits to it.

   “Why me?” Illya asked with a frown. Waverly sighed. He understood the man. Getting called back from ones holiday, though he was sure Illya had planned nothing at all, was not pleasant. And being assigned a mission without much background knowledge was not funny.

   “Because I don’t trust the other agents with this. You are one of our best men.” Still frowning the Russian jerked his head.

   “What about Gaby? Isn’t she also capable of this?” Pinching the bridge of the nose, Waverly picked up the file sitting on his desk like a vulture.

   “It’s a strip club.”

   “Strip club.” In Illya’s accent it sounded even filthier than normal. “You send me to strip club?”

   “This man runs a drug business behind the safe curtain of a strip club. The only way to make contact with him is by going in there and talking to him.” Waverly saw the disgust in Illya’s eyes and held back a frown. “It is your job to do this.”

   “Fine.” The Russian snapped. “But you will pay double.” Now Waverly frowned.

   “Deal.” He said with a sigh and handed over the file. “You will prepare to make the first attempt tonight.” Illya nodded and left the office. He banged the door behind him and Waverly fell back into his chair and sighed. This job was draining him.

 

||||||||||||||||||||||||

 

The place was nothing like Illya had expected. It was clean and looked posh, almost too posh for a strip club. He was let in by one of the bodyguards. As he walked through the dark room, past the men in posh suits and slimy smiles that watched a young woman undress on the brightly lit and glittering stage, he went through his cover again. Russian Banker in England for a private investor.

   “A vodka please.” He told the old woman behind the counter. She looked at him under her heavy eyelids and nodded slowly before she went to get his drink. Turning he looked over to the stage where the woman was now swinging around the pole, her long hair whipping around her face and the silk that covered her body billowed around her.

   “Sir.” The bartender said and pushed the glass over the table. Illya handed her five pounds and she turned back, towards other customers. Scanning the crowd, he spotted him. Ellias Redoras, twenty-seven, Turkish-Spanish heritage and a large fan of the ideals of the US. In the dim light he looked smug and devilish, but when he turned his features were almost bored, as if the show was not to his taste. He caught Illya’s eye and the Russian stared back for a few seconds, before he broke eye contact.

He took a sip from his glass as he traced the lines of the woman walking on stage. Her colleague was not to be seen and Illya had to admit he didn’t even notice that the dancer changed. This woman was a redhead and wore a long black dress with an artistically made hat. The hat was the first thing she threw into the crowd and a man caught it. Illya sighed and frowned before he a sip from his vodka.

   “Not enjoying the show?” Looking up, the Russian was faced with Ellias Redoras.

   “Why do you think so?” Illya asked.

   “You are not watching Amelia and Clarice before that didn’t interest you either.” The man flashed a smile. “My name is Ellias Redoras, owner of this club. I want my customers to be pleased when they leave.”

   “I am Kostja Radzinsky.” Illya moved a little to face the man. “And I am pleased by your show and your girls.” But Mr Redoras seemed not convinced.

   “Why don’t you sit with me and have a drink? That disgusting vodka they pour into the glasses here is nothing compared to the stuff my personal bar can offer.” Illya arched his eyebrow.

   “Thank you for the invitation, but I hardly doubt that you want me as your companion for the night. I am no talker.” The Russian shrugged.

   “Mr Radzinsky, I think there are interesting things about everyone and you don’t need to talk much. I don’t like to ruin a show with too much talking. Just a little company.” Waving his hand, Mr Redoras ushered Illya into the direction of his private booth. The two men sat down and Illya sneaked one hand between the cushions of the sofa he sat on while his host poured him fresh vodka. The bug was placed and would hopefully stay there for a while.

   “What brings you here?” Mr Redoras sat down across Illya.

   “I work for Bank. We have client here in Great Britain and I was send here to talk to him about his bank account.” Illya took a sip from his vodka. “I have never been to Great Britain before.”

   “But you went here with what intention?”

   “I was looking for place for a night. Distraction.” Shrugging the Russian glance over to the stage. Again another girl danced, this time she was far younger than the two before.

   “Well, you certainly have found a place for one night, but you don’t seem to enjoy it.” Mr Redoras moved a little closer to Illya. “Are you interested in something…different?” Blinking, the Russian swallowed.

   “What…different?”

   “Some come here in order to live out who they are…if you know what I am implying.” Mr Redoras choked his head towards the stage. “Something different that girls, no matter what age.” Illya took a moment to gather his thoughts. If he said that he was one of those men, he would seem like he trusted Redoras, but that also meant the other man had something to ‘black mail’ him. There was still the possibility that he said no…but yet he knew that he didn’t really play the act of the desperate banker looking for a quick girl for the night well. And taking up that act would now be foolish.

   “Well…yes.” He said with dry voice and took a sip of his vodka. Mr Redoras smiled gently, but also a little snake-like.

   “If you may follow me Mr Radzinsky.” The two men made their way through the crowd and Mr Redoras lead Illya into a small back room. “Napoleon will be here shortly.” Illya sat down on one of the bar stools. He fiddled with his glass and pulled out another bug, thinking about placing it under the stool. But that would lead to questions when it was found and that also pointed towards him so he let it slip back into his jacket pocket again. The door opened again and a man strode in.

   “Good evening.” He looked like an Adonis. The hair was dark and his eyes were bright in a strong face. His suit was perfectly tailored and Illya would be lying that he wasn’t turned on by the smirk on the man’s face.

   “Evening.” He replied. “You must be Napoleon.” The smirk turned into a soft smile.

   “Yes. And you are Kostja. Or would you like me to call you by your last name?” Napoleon came closer, a swing in his hips that momentarily distracted Illya from the man’s lips.

   “No. Kostja is fine.” Illya sat down his glass, Napoleon now standing right in front of him, both hands on the other man’s knees.

   “When Ellias told me there’s a man from Russia for me, I didn’t expect someone so hot.” Napoleon murmured and traced on hand up Illya’s thigh.

   “Do you think all Russian’s are ugly old men?”

   “Well that’s what we hear in America about your country.” Napoleon replied and licked his lips. “But one thing I need to criticise. A bowtie doesn’t work with this suit.” He reach up and undid the tie. Illya’s eyes dropped from the man’s eyes down to his lips and throat. His fingers worked slowly and when he pulled the bowtie from the collar, he steadied one hand against Illya’s shoulder.

   “Well, then I am sorry.” Illya let his accent roll and watched Napoleon swallow. “But I usually don’t dress to impress.” The American frowned.

   “That’s pretty sad Kostja, you are a very fit bloke.” Napoleon traced his hand over Illya’s shoulder and down his chest a little, his eyes following his hand. He looked up and his pupils were a little blown. “You would strike quiet the figure in a hand tailored suit.” Illya smiled.

   “Thank you.” He swallowed, his collar slightly constricting him. Napoleon noticed immediately and folded the bowtie, capturing Illya’s attention as he focused on those broad, strong hands. Gently the American tucked the bowtie into Illya’s suit jacket, not the one with the two spare bugs.

   “Let me loose your collar.” Coming even close, standing right between the Russian’s legs, Napoleon undid the first two buttons of the shirt. “Better?” He asked and let his hands rest on Illya’s chest, fingers under the jacket.

   “Yes, very kind of you, Napoleon.” With a slight chuckle the man moved away.

   “I think I have a job to do.” Illya would be lying if he said that he didn’t missed the man’s warmth and his hands. Slowly, Napoleon walked over to a curtain and pulled it aside, revealing a pole on a small stage. He threw a look and a cocky smile over his shoulder and opened his jacket, sliding out of it. Illya’s lower region heated up when he saw how fit Napoleon was. The American hung his jacket on a hook and wound one arm around the pole.

Slow music started and he began to turn around the pole. It should have looked ridiculous, but Illya found himself staring at the man with interest and _want._ Napoleon leaned his back against the pole, arse facing towards Illya and unbuttoned his waistcoat and slowly leaned forward. The two perfect globes of the man’s behind were parted by the pole and Illya bit his lower lip.

He knew that he was homosexual, but never he spent a second thought on it. Never had he had more than a temporary physical relationship with a man, sometimes only lasting a few hours. But now with Napoleon stripping for him he was more aware of it then ever. Only Gaby and Waverly knew and both kept it a secret. After all they were a couple and Waverly was married, though he tried to divorce his wife. Napoleon came up and turned around again, throwing his waistcoat aside. If the light didn’t play a trick on his mind, Illya could see the man’s cock straining against his trousers.

   “Are you enjoying yourself Kostja?” Napoleon asked with a cocky smile.

   “Oh yes.” Illya leaned back and took a sip from his glass. “Are you?” The American only smiled and leaned against the pole and pushed his hips forward. Yes, the dancer was hard. But then he turned with a whirl and Illya found it hard to follow him. Napoleon was immensely talented and undid his belt with a quick movement and threw it to Illya’s feet. Then he slipped out of his shoes and climbed up the pole.

Illya’s breath caught when he watched the play of Napoleon’s muscles under his shirt and the tailored pants. The man simply bowed back and hung from the pole, bending in the most sinful way, the light practically shining through his shirt. Illya found it hard to contain a moan. Slowly the American unbuttoned his shirt and let it fall off his body. He started from his waistband up, un-tucking it as he went.

When he stretched his arms so low his fingertips touched the floor, the white fabric simply fell off his shoulder. He stilled for a few seconds and then moved up, holding on to the pole. Illya held his breath when Napoleon released his legs and swung around the pole twice before he lowered to the ground.

   “Impressed?” Napoleon asked, a smirk playing around his lips.

   “That would be an understatement.” The Russian said breathlessly. Visibly proud, the dancer walked down the two steps to the stage and walked over to Illya barefooted and only in his pants. The Russian lifted his hands to rest them on the man’s naked chest.

   “You really like what you saw didn’t you?” Napoleon said huskily. He stood so very close again when he rested one of his broad hands on Illya’s upper thigh.

   “Who wouldn’t? You are exquisite.” Chuckling, the American looked up from the tent in Illya’s pants.

   “Flatterer.”

   “No. I am telling truth.” Illya said and leaned slightly forward. “You are beautiful. Extraordinary.” Inching closer, Napoleon rested his other hand on Illya’s shoulder, close to his neck.

   “I usually don’t do this with customers, but you…are different.” Napoleon sighed and his eyes darted down to Illya’s lips. “Such a temptation. When I came in I saw a stiff Russian and now…you are so open and relaxed.” The American slipped even closer and Illya was forced to move his hands to Napoleon’s back. “Kostja, you are someone special.” Looking up into Illya’s eyes the man smiled. Then he kissed the Russian’s lips. For a brief moment, Illya was frozen.

But then he kissed Napoleon back and he felt the soft skin on the man’s back and he enjoyed the warmth seeping through his clothes. Napoleon’s hand moved from his thigh to his ass and his other arm went around his neck. Breath washed over Illya’s cheek as their kiss grew more heated. Napoleon was perfect. Not too forward and not to prude. Illya had only kissed women so far, for mission’s sake. Once even Gaby. But this was different.

   “You are a natural kisser.” Napoleon whispered against his wet lips when the Russian pulled back.

   “Thank you.” In his aroused state Illya’s accent thickened even more. “You are perfect partner.” The chuckle he got in reply was dry and a little humourless.

   “Don’t. Please I am not supposed to kiss my customers.” Napoleon’s smile was a little sad.

   “Why?” Illya drew circles on the American’s back.

   “I am a little bit better than a whore. Whores are not supposed to love the person fucking them. I am not supposed to fall for the person I dance for.” The dancer pulled away a little, but Illya kept him close.

   “I could get you out of here.” He said quietly.

   “Where am I supposed to go?” Napoleon asked with a dry laugh, their states of arousal forgotten for a moment. “I am a whore and before that I was a thief. I was nearly caught by the CIA. Who would want me in their business?”

   “I have some ideas.”

   “That’s sweet of you Kostja, but here it’s better for me. At least I don’t need to fuck my customers or let them fuck me.” Napoleon stared over Illya’s shoulder. “Only if I want to.”

   “Napoleon. Look at me.” The American moved his eyes on Illya’s. “I want to get you out of here and I will.”

   “Russia is no place for an American. You know…”

   “Shh. I won’t take you to Russia. When is your shift over?” Illya looked into Napoleon’s eyes and he saw the man’s struggle.

   “You can pick me up in one hour. Ellias is pretty strict about shift endings.” Illya smiled at him broadly.

   “I will wait in small road about one hundred metres to the left.” Napoleon nodded, looking serious.

   “Thank you Kostja.”

   “No problem Napoleon.” Illya moved off the stool, pressing his body against Napoleon’s. The American’s breath hitched.

   “You’re still hard.” He said huskily.

   “OF course I am, you are halfway undressed.” Napoleon’s pupils blew completely. He inhaled.

   “Come with me.” The American pulled the other man through a small door into a room with a sofa and some chairs. Illya knew that there were such rooms, but never expected to actually enter one of them. Napoleon pushed him down on the sofa and he fell into the cushions with a huff.

   “What are you playing at?” He asked but only got a smirk in reply. Napoleon knelt down between Illya’s legs and let his hands glide up the man’s legs until they came to rest around his crotch. The Russian grunted and bucked up. He watched as his belt was opened and his fly undone. Napoleon looked like a child before unwrapping his Christmas present. Then he pulled down Illya’s briefs as far as he could and revealed the man’s massive cock.

   “God have mercy.” Napoleon said and left his mouth hanging open. He moved slightly forward and Illya’s hands shot up.

   “Do you want this?”

   “Kostja. I want to choke on your cock.” The Russian groaned at Napoleon’s response and then again when the American’s mouth was around his dick. His hands were around Napoleons head and when he pushed slightly down, he got a low hum in reply. The vibration nearly drove him insane, so he pushed down a little more, until his whole cock has vanished into the man’s mouth. When he gently pulled back, Napoleon followed suit until his lips were around the crown of Illya’s cock.

Then he looked up and Illya moaned shamelessly. The man looked so filthy and yet innocent with his bright eyes it was driving Illya insane. He pushed the American’s head down and when the man’s nose was buried in his pubic hair, he swallowed and hummed, causing Illya to moan strangled. The Russian pulled out and held Napoleon’s face with one hand as he pumped his cock with the other. After two strokes he came all over the other’s face.

   “Sweet Jesus.” Napoleon said after Illya finished coming. Gently he took the Russian’s hand and liked off the come, not bothering to remove the white stripes on his face. He looked up at Illya.

   “You are sin.” The chuckle Illya got in reply was soft and gentle.

   “I know.” Napoleon said climbed into the other’s lab.

   “Don’t. I feel like I have used you already too much.” The Russian closed his eyes and rubbed one hand over his face.

   “No. I am enjoying myself, as are you apparently.” Illya opened one eyes and looked at the other man. “I don’t want to let you go. You may simply run off and never come back. Then all my hopes would have been for naught.” The American ground his hips into Illya’s and elicited a moan from the man.

   “Stop it.”

   “Oh no Kostja.” Napoleon ground down again. “This is fun.” At the third time, Illya’s hand shot around the American, pressing him against his chest and constricting all movements.

   “Napoleon, please stop. We can do this at another time. I need to make some preparations before I pick you up and the more time we waste…”

   “This is wasted time?” Napoleon scoffed.

   “No it isn’t, it is nice, very nice.” Illya let out a long suffering sigh. “But I would like to help you as best as I can and I can’t do that when I am fucking you senseless.” Here Napoleon moaned.

   “But when all this is settled…then?” Napoleon leaned down and Illya grinned, actually grinned.

   “Sure.” Then, just for good measure, he pinched Napoleon’s ass. The hiss he got in reply weirdly boosted his ego.

   “I will go now and I will pick you up in an hour.” Illya pushed Napoleon off his lap and stood up. “Oh and please clean up.”


	2. Night 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for taking so long, had no wifi and the sex scene just didn't feel right the way it was for about 3 times so i had to change it all over again.   
> Hope you enjoy the second part just as much as the first.

Illya looked into the rear mirror of his car as he drove away from the club. He had paid for Napoleon’s show and bid his good-byes to Mr Redoras. He stopped at a phone booth and left the car. As he dialled the number to Gaby’s safe house, he tapped his fingers on the window, watching the passing people around him.

   “ _Yes please?_ ”

   “Gaby, it’s me.” Illya said. “I have a favour I need you to take care of.”

   “ _Shoot away._ ” Though she sounded tired, she was always ready to help him.

   “Can you try and get your hands on files about Napoleon Solo.” She hummed. “And get me Waverly on the phone, preferably now.” He knew that the man spent most of his time at Gaby’s.

   “ _Fine, but can you tell me why_?”

   “Napoleon is working in Redoras’ club. I want to get him out of it, but he may also know some things.”

   “ _And what if he’s fooling you_?”

   “Gaby, I think I am good judge of character. He strikes me as thief but not as liar.” Illya said and heard only static. “Please Gaby, I think this will work.”

   “ _Fine. But I warned you_!” There was some shuffling and he waited as Gaby went to get Waverly on the phone.

   “ _Evening Illya. I take the evening went well_?”

   “Yes. I have placed the bug, but have found another way to get information. Napoleon Solo is working there and he wants to get out. If we can arrange for something, he may help us.”

   “ _Napoleon Solo.”_ Waverly chuckled. “ _That you meet CIA’s most wanted criminal is a weird coincidence. He is searched for thievery since a few years, but because he vanished from the face of earth, they stopped actively searching a while ago._ ” Illya bit his tongue.

   “Do you think we can help him? And that he is trustworthy?”

   “ _Sure we can. I heard that he is an exceptional thief and that he has never been caught, safe for once. He would make a great agent. About the trusting…I am not sure, but we can try._ ”

   “I now know why people call you mad.” Illya said with a sigh. “You clearly have lost your mind long ago.”

   “ _I lost it when I took you and Gaby in. But that is a different matter. You can tell your Napoleon that he has to stay for a little longer in this establishment, but that we will bail him out._ ” Waverly sighed. “ _I think in two or three days we will be ready to take him in. But until then he needs to remain there. And preferably gather information._ ”

   “Should I reveal myself to him?”

   “ _Say only that you work for a spy agency, but not which. I think he will understand that you can’t be CIA._ ” Illya inhaled.

   “Thank you sir. I will call from my flat again.” Then the line went dead.

 

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Illya sat in his car and read the newspaper lying around. He had lead the car to Gaby the other day, only to find several newspaper and cigarette stubs lying around. Apparently she had to spy on someone and it had been a boring day. A sharp knock against the window didn’t startle Illya. He had seen the shadow approach half a minute before.

   “You can slip in. The door is not locked.” He told Napoleon. As the man sat down, Illya threw the newspaper on the back seat.

   “I thought you wouldn’t show up.” The dark haired man looked at the Russian.

   “I do not break promise.” Illya said. “Are these your clothes?”

   “Yes. They are from my locker. Why are you asking?” Napoleon looked suspicious.

   “Oh nothing. Just curious.” Then he drove on. “I will bring you to my flat. We can talk better there.”

 

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   “Take off your clothes.” Illya said as he dropped his keys on the small table by the door.

   “Excuse me.” Napoleon looked at him. The look of friendliness was gone and there was mistrust in his eyes.

   “Trust me on this. You could have bugs in your clothes. I hate when people listen to privet conversations. Down the hall is my bedroom.” Illya pointed to a door. Still the American looked annoyed and weirded out by the man.

   “You think they bugged me?” The American shook his head. “Why would that be of any interest for you?”

   “Just do it.” Illya went into the kitchen and heard the other man huff, but eventually he walked into the bedroom. When he returned, he was barefooted and wore a pair of soft pants and Illya’s least favourite shirt, a light blue thing Gaby got him for a mission. It was Illya slightly too small, but it fitted Napoleon slightly better than any other shirt from the Russian.

   “Here I am.” Napoleon looked like a grumpy teenager.

   “Thats wonderful.” Illya said and took the two cups of tea. “Let’s go into the living room.” Making his way through his flat, Illya heard the other follow him. The sofa cushion dipped under his weight and he sighed. Napoleon sat down across from him.

   “What do you want to tell me?”

   “Fast forward.” Illya chuckled. “Well. I am part of a spy agency. Not the KGB and not the CIA or FBI, just so you know. They have taken an interest in Ellias Redoras’ business. He smuggles drugs among other things.”

   “I already know that.” Napoleon said and Illya noticed the guarded way he held himself and spoke. Ready to attack.

   “My handler and boss wants me to find out more about this and get evidence on the man’s crimes.” Taking a sip from his tea, the Russian sighed. “And here you are important. If you want us to get you out, we need a few days to arrange everything.”

   “Why should I trust you Kostja? If this is even your real name.”

   “My name is Illya Kurjakin, former KBG’s best agent. Which agency I know work for will stay a secret until you are out of the stripper business.” Napoleon looked at him with annoyance. “Do you think my boss likes that I picked you up? He would have liked me to get the info in a day or less. But it doesn’t work like that. We need to trust one another.”

   “How can I trust you?” Napoleon asked. “I have not know your name until now! Do you understand what kind of position I am?”

   “Napoleon please.” Illya sighed. “It is complicated I know, but it is necessary. And I will come again, under the same name. It is my cover, do you understand.”

   “I don’t see why I should or could trust you!” The American stood up. He looked…confused and sad. And then angry. Illya had expected something like that, so the sudden attack was not so sudden for him. The sofa toppled over and the two rolled over the floor in an attempt to have the upper hand.

   “I warn you. I killed people stronger than you.” Illya bit out and flipped them over, but Napoleon writhed under him and got one leg up against the Russian’s head.

   “And I dance around a pole for a living!” He hissed and the two continued to struggle against one another.

   “Verdammte Scheiße.” Gaby stood in the living room door and looked at the mess. “Stand up and dust yourself off!” She said sternly. Napoleon stared at her and his eyes flitted back to Illya.

   “Your girlfriend?” He bit out.

   “No. Work colleague.” Illya said and pushed the American off.

   “Gaby Teller.” She introduced herself. “His partner for two years.” Napoleon still looked at her suspiciously.

   “What are you doing here?” Walking over to the woman, Illya stared down on her. Tutting, Gaby simply passed him and sat down on the over turned sofa.

   “Waverly has your second keys and because both of us were worried that you might kill one another, he send me over. And he sends his love.” Illya arched his eyebrow at the secret code. Then he looked over to Napoleon. So he could trust him.

   “Why don’t we move this into the kitchen?” He asked as his eyes went over the now cold cups of tea.

   “Ugh, fine.” Gaby said and stood up. Napoleon still stood there and Illya felt responsible for pushing the man into all this.

   “Come Napoleon.” He said gently and got a weird look from Gaby for that. But the American followed his call and stood close in the small kitchen.

   “Very well.” Gaby sat down on the only chair and crossed her legs. “We are working for a secret agency named U.N.C.L.E. You may or may not have heard about it.” Gaby brushed her hair back. “I am the daughter of a German scientist and atombomb builder and Illya is formerly KGB.” Napoleon stared at the woman. “Waverly, or Alexander Waverly, is our boss and handler. He is the person trying to get CIA’s eyes and hands off you at the moment. We want you in out ranks.”

Silence followed Gaby’s announcement and Illya took this time to study the American’s face. There was the obvious and expected confusion, a little bit of terror and fear along with … surprisingly hope. He didn’t notice Gaby’s knowing look and the smile playing around her lips as she noticed the quick glance Napoleon’s over to Illya.

   “Well.” The American’s voice cracked a little. “This is…certainly unexpected…but I think I have little else option than to accept.” He inhaled. “As long as I keep my freedom and if my services are not bound to a certain amount of time…”

   “That’s the thing.” Gaby interrupted him. “We are taking you in, getting you out rather, but you need to sign a contract for five years. Just for your information the CIA would keep you on their leash for fifteen.” Napoleon flinched. Illya had always known that Gaby liked to haggle and that she did it oh so well.

   “Good.” The American rubbed one hand over his face and buried the other in his pant pocket…or he would have, if Illya’s pants had pockets.

   “We don’t want to pressure you too much, but we are on a tight schedule regarding Ellias Redoras and your help is direly needed. We can’t send Illya in there every other night.” Gaby sighed and stood up. “I’ll leave you two now, if you promise me not to destroy the entire flat. We will need it again.” Then she simply walked past the two men and out of the door.

   “Well.” Illya said with a dry throat. “It would be best if we slept a night over what happened and talked tomorrow again. Napoleon only nodded.

 

||||||||||||||||||||||||

 

Things were awkward between Illya and Napoleon. Neither had actually approached the other over what happened that fateful first night and also Gaby had not asked about it. Now the two sat in Illya’s flat after the successful mission. Napoleon had been drinking and didn’t even stop when Gaby, who had stayed after the de-briefing, left. Illya had drunken some too, but he didn’t like alcohol that much.

   “You can hold your liquor pretty well.” Illya said and his accent caught on the ‘pretty’.

   “If you get customers who want to get you drunk so they can do whatever they please with you, you need to hold it.” Napoleon said with a dry, humourless chuckle.

   “Can’t argue with that.” Usually the Russian would have kept quiet, but the alcohol loosened his tongue. He leaned over the table and looked into Napoleon’s eyes. “You are very pretty.”

   “You say that as if you are surprised by it.” Napoleon batted his lashes slowly and grinned a little giddy.

   “I am.” The confession weirdly made him blush. “I haven’t met a man who can fight so well and look so good in all my life.”

   “I feel flattered.” The American visibly basked in the other’s attention.

   “Don’t you hear that often?”

   “I do. But not out of the mouth of a hot Russian former KGB spy who is pleased when he can kill people.” Napoleon had dropped his voice to a sexy husk. Biting his tongue, the Russian kept quiet. “I love your scar.” The American reached out and weirdly, Illya let him touch the car on the side of his face.

   “I do not like it.” Illya said dryly and wanted to turn his face away, when Napoleon’s other hand took hold of his face and the American pulled him around and halfway over the table. The kiss was unexpected and hot. Immediately he relaxed into it and closed his eyes.

   “You are extremely sexy when you kill. So fierce, makes me wonder how you fuck.” Napoleon whispered against the other’s lips. Moaning, the Russian exhaled slowly as the other stood and walked around the tiny table to sit down in Illya’s lap.

  “Comfortable?” Illya asked and his accent had thickened even more. It felt heavy on his tongue, but it made Napoleon moan and throw his head back as he ground his hips into Illya’s.

   “Oh yes.” The American whispered and kissed Illya again. Their tongues dance, sloppily and hotly as Illya held on to Napoleon’s legs, pressed tightly into some hand tailored pants. The other had his arms loosely around Illya’s shoulders. How long they kissed was hard to tell. Only certain was that the Russian got annoyed after a while, with the hot American in his lap and no further contact, and so he lifted the other up and slowly but steadily carried him to the bedroom.

   “Are you now showing me?” Napoleon whispered into Illya’s ear shortly before licking it.

   “Yes.” The Russian growled, making the other moan and grind into him. Tightening his hold on Napoleon’s ass, Illya bit back a growl. When he dropped Napoleon on the soft and overly large bed, he loomed over him. The panting mess down there was only five hours ago a focused agent shooting down their enemies.

   “Undress for me please.” Napoleon begged. “I have rarely seen someone undress for me. Always me for them.” The Russian was surprise, but only for a few seconds, then he pulled his pullover off and threw it away, before he unbuttoned his shirt. He saw that Napoleon enjoyed what he saw, the bulge in the other’s pants visible in the stark light falling through the large windows.

   “You look so pretty in moonlight.” Illya said and let his shirt slip off, before he went to undo his belt.

   “Not as pretty as you are.” Napoleon mumbled and it seemed to take him great effort not to jump up and lick over Illya’s chest. When the pair of pants joined the shirt, Napoleon started undressing himself and Illya didn’t stop him. After his socks and underwear was shed, he looked up to find Napoleon naked on the bed, his clothes thrown to the other side of the room.

   “You are quick.” Illya said as he put one knee down on the bed.

   “I can be quick, I can be slow.” The American’s face was inches from his. “Whatever you want.” A shiver went through Illya and he slammed the other into the pillows.

   “I will fuck you so hard that you won’t even remember how to dress for the next two days.” Napoleon moaned.

   “Yes please.” He whispered and Illya leaned down to first nose and the lick on the underside and neck of his bed partner. When he bit down on the soft flesh, Napoleon whimpered, but pushed up.

   “Turn around and reach into the night stand.” Illya said and went up on his hands. Slowly, Napoleon slipped out from underneath him and turned his ass right up into Illya’s face. The Russian grinned and slapped one of the cheeks hard. Napoleon moaned and threw the lube over his shoulder. Illya uncapped the bottle and poured something on his hand.

   “Illya, I want you to fuck me until tomorrow. I want you to make me forget. I want you to force me into ecstasy. I want…” The American mumbled as his lover opened him up.

   “Shush. I know what you want. And I will give you all that and I will make you feel good. Loved.” The last word was so quiet, Napoleon nearly didn’t caught it.

   “Loved?” He asked and instantly moaned as the Russian twisted his two fingers in the other man.

   “Yes.” Napoleon looked over his shoulder when Illya’s fingers stopped moving.

   “We talk later.” The expression on the American’s face twisted from light confusion and hope into lust again. “You have a promise to make up to.” Illya grinned and shoved his fingers all the way down to the last knuckle. Wailing, Napoleon fell forward, burying his face in the bed sheets.

   “Oh yes.” Illya continued to finger-fuck the American, until he couldn’t take it any longer and lubed himself up.

   “Give it to me. I already saw it…”

   “Shush. Turn around. I usually don’t like to see the faces of the people I fuck, but you are different.” Slowly, Napoleon turned. He gasped when he saw Illya’s face, stern and yet lustfull. Slowly and painfully the Russian entered the other and Napoleon arched up from the bed, hands fisting the sheets by his side.

   “Jesus.” He said and nearly drooled on the pillows. Illya gave a low moan and pulled out a little only to trust in even deeper. Soon they settled into a rhythm, slow and achingly pleasurable. Napoleon was lost to the world when Illya began kissing his chest and biting his neck, marking the former stripper as his.

   “You are very hot.” Napoleon moaned at Illya’s thickened accent and clung to the Russian’s shoulder, nails biting the pale skin until blood was drawn.

   “Illya.” Napoleon whimpered when he drew closer. “Please…please.” His pleas became inaudible, but the Russian didn’t speed up, he rather slowed down even more, every trust calculated. Illya watched Napoleon fall apart ever so slowly. When the American then came, he nearly blanked out. He clenched around Illya and the Russian, who had by then nearly used up all his self-control, collapsed on top of him as he violently came.

   “Thank you.” Napoleon whispered into Illya’s shoulder.

   “What for?”

   “I used to think my clients weren’t human. You showed me differently.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, giving kudos and commenting!
> 
> If you want more from this ship, just send me a prompt!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, giving kudos and commenting!


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